


What Have They Done To Me

by Checkersandpinstripes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Stucky - Fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-06 07:06:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6744409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Checkersandpinstripes/pseuds/Checkersandpinstripes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky spent 70 years having people mess with his brain. Of course there are side effects. But are these the side effects anyone could have expected?</p><p> </p><p>(a collection of funny, random one shots my friend and I came up with)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bucky and The Coconut Fetish

Bucky couldn’t remember when he found this love of coconut. Was it the 50’s? Or maybe the 90’s? It didn’t really matter. All he knew was that he could spend hours eating it. It didn’t matter if it was straight out of the coconut, from a bag or scraping off the top of a cake.   
‘Buck, we need to talk.” Bucky was lying on the couch, reading a book when Steve waltzed in.   
“Okay.” He said, sitting his book down and following Steve into the kitchen. The counter was covered in bags of coconut. “Well, shit.” Steve glared at him.  
“Language.” Bucky glared back. Clearly they had a situation on their hands. “Buck, do you care to explain what this is?”   
“Yeah, when you explain how you got all this.” Steve boosted himself onto the counter, leaning into the corner created by the cabinets.   
“I discovered a bag when I put some new sweatpants in your drawer while you were down at the gym this morning. I found another one in your backpack when I put your snack in there to replace the one I took during the last mission. The third one was in the cabinet under the sink, the fourth on the top shelf in our closet, the fifth…”  
“Okay I get your point.” Bucky ran his hand through his hair and glanced at the 30 bags of coconut. “I know how you found some of them but the others were in my personal stuff.”   
“Once I found a few on my own I just looked around to see how many there were. I didn’t rummage through anything. If I saw I bag I just peeked in, didn’t even touch any thing. I was more curious about the coconut then what secrets you would be hiding.” Bucky’s eyes narrowed, he filled with anger.  
“You went through my stuff. You promised you would never go through my things and you did anyway.” He turned to storm off. Steve jumped down and grabbed his arm, pulling him around to face him again.  
“Buck I didn’t..I…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I guess curiosity got the best of me.” Bucky pulled away.  
“I don’t care.” He stormed to their room and slammed the door, locking it to make sure Steve stayed away.   
Over the next few days Bucky avoided Steve who had apologized numerous times. No matter what he said, Bucky was still hurt by the fact that he had broken the biggest promised he had made. Not only that, but Steve had also taken all the coconut he had found and gave it to the ladies at the V.A. office that Sam used to work at. He sat on the bed thinking about how he could manage to have the one thing that kept him happy, especially when he had dark days, and not let Steve find out.   
He quietly slid to the floor, running his hand over the floorboards until he felt the one that was ever so slightly higher than the rest. He pulled it up effortlessly and reached into the secret compartment he had built when he first moved it. Originally he had meant for it to be for some cash, a few passports and a gun in case of emergencies but after a while he decided that it had enough room for a bag of coconut to go along with it. His ultimate bug out stash. He grabbed the bag and silently tore it open before sneaking out of their bedroom and down the hall. Steve’s large body completely covered the couch, his limbs hanging off in all directions, his breathing steady. He was asleep and had been for hours. Bucky grabbed a spoon and made his way to the bathroom. No one should bother him there.   
He perched himself on the edge of the tub, behind the curtain with the lights off. That way he was safe if Steve woke up for a midnight toilet break. The curtain was thick enough that he wouldn’t cast a shadow with the lights on and with the lights off it appeared as though the bathroom was vacant. He smiled as he took his first bite and every bite after that. He spent over an hour completely still, all except his arms and mouth. He heard feet pattering down the hallway and he froze, spoon inches from his mouth. The door creaked open and the lights flickered on. Steve sat something on the counter and yawned. Instantly the curtain was pulled back, revealing a frightened Bucky and an even more frightened Steve.  
“What on earth are you doing?” He yelled, his flight or fight instincts calming.   
“I uh, well I ummm.” Bucky stumbled across his words. Steve jerked the bag from Bucky’s hand and the spoon from the other.   
“Go to bed.” Bucky stood, letting out an overly dramatic sigh. “Now!”   
It was days later before such an encounter happened again. This time Bucky was on top of the refrigerator. He thought he was completely hidden in the dark, until Steve needed some milk. The next time he was on the fire escape, three floors above. Steve had stepped out to get some fresh air as he recovered from a nightmare. Coconut shavings fell like snow from the overturned bag.   
They began sharing the bed once again, after Bucky had clearly moved on from his initial anger over the coconut subject. Now every move, every twitch, every muscle spasm Steve knew about. Bucky had to find yet another way to get his joy filled bags. The simple fact was that they had been hidden in every inch of the house. They filled walls and were under floors, behind paintings and under bushes outside. Bucky could be anywhere in the house and have access to about five different bags.   
He had to have it. He couldn’t just lay there and think about them all being so close. He took a chance and, as suspected, Steve noticed.  
“Where ya going Buck?” He said, still half asleep.   
“I can’t sleep. I’m going to the couch. Don’t wanna disturb your beauty sleep.” He joked. Actually he was going to the potted plant that sat next to the TV. Underneath its roots sat three bags that were just waiting to be eaten. He grabbed them and made his way to the coat closet by the front door. Pulling the coats around him he closed the door and ate as fast as he could. When he finished those he would leave his hiding spot to retrieve more and repeated the process until he felt ill. He couldn’t make himself move. Each minute movement would send a wave of nausea through his body; aches racked his bones and muscles with pain from crouching so long.   
“I’ll just sleep here and make up some lame excuse in the morning.” He told himself as he drifted off to sleep.  
“James Buchanan Barnes, what in god’s name have you done?” Steve’s voice screamed through whatever dream Bucky was enjoying. A running shoe soared passed his head and something continued to nudge his shin. He squinted in the harsh light of a flashlight beam pointed directly at his face.   
Bucky sat up. As he opened his mouth to explain he could feel vomit rising in his throat. Grabbing the bag just in time he hurled. Steve lowered to his knees, placing the flashlight on the floor and grabbing Bucky’s hair to prevent it from getting in the way as Bucky continued to vomit. When he finally stopped Steve helped him to the couch before running to the kitchen to grab some water.   
“I tried to tell you.” Steve said, gently. Bucky groaned in response.  
A few weeks later Steve and Bucky were invited to Natasha’s birthday party. She had arranged for five different types of cakes and over thirty different types of cookies for her friends to enjoy as they all sat there and played monopoly (which happened to be Tony’s least favorite game). As they walked down the line of tables choosing what they would like to spend the next four hours munching on, Steve noticed a large coconut cake with cherries on top.  
“Hey Buck,” He said nudging Barnes in the side. “She got your favorite. Its coconut!” Steve grinned a somewhat evil grin as he saw Bucky turn a mild shade of green. They both smiled and joined the others.   
“I think I can win this time.” Bucky said.  
“I’m sure ya can Buck, I’m sure you can.”


	2. Who Knew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is incredibly good with small children
> 
>  
> 
> (I wrote this while I was incredibly tired and completely disregarded the prompt we made for it. I hope you guys still enjoy it though!)

Bucky scanned the restaurant, mapping each escape route and every possible blind spot. He had barely touched his food and Steve was almost finished.   
“Bucky, you okay?” Steve asked, sipping his drink and nudging Buck in the leg with the toe of his shoe.   
“Uh, yeah. Yeah I’m totally fine.” He looked over his shoulder again, this time finding something he didn’t expect. A small, chubby, food covered face was staring at him from a highchair at the table next to theirs. The baby smiled and laughed when Bucky smiled back. He sat back in his seat and took a few bites of the cold food that had been waiting almost an hour for him.   
“Alright. Hey, it looks like you got a buddy.” Steve said, pointing towards the baby who looked rather upset at Bucky’s disappearance. Bucky poked his head around the back of the booth seat and the baby giggled. He continued going back and forth until the baby’s family finished their meal and left.   
“Didn’t know you were so good with babies.” Steve said as they entered their apartment.   
“Yeah, me neither.” Bucky felt a happiness he hadn’t felt since before Hydra.   
A few weeks later, Bucky collapsed on a bench in the park, covered in sweat and breathing heavy after his morning run. Across from him sat a baby in a stroller, the mother paying it no attention as she played on her phone. Bucky smiled and gave it a subtle wave and it giggled and kicked its feet. Before Bucky knew what he was doing he was making weird faces and playing peek a boo with the baby boy from across the sidewalk. The mother overheard his laugh and quickly stood up and they left. Bucky just sighed as he started walking towards the café.   
As he entered he scanned the room, looking for Sam. They met here every morning to talk about different things. It was supposed to be an alternative to therapy, but they usually talked about things other than Bucky’s mental health. He saw two small children sitting in a booth across the room and chuckled. He kept running into little kids.   
“What can I get’cha today Buckaroo?” Robert, the owner of the café, asked in his usual upbeat tone.   
“Let me get my usual and throw in a couple of those chocolate muffins.” He tossed a ten dollar bill on the counter and looked back at the kids. They seemed to be unattended and that bothered him. Something could happen to them. Maybe it was luck he found them. He could watch them, make sure they are safe until an adult retrieved them.  
“Here ya go.” He placed the food on the counter and filled a plastic to-go cup with steaming coffee. “Three bananas, two bagels, two chocolate muffins and a steamin’ hot cup o’ joe.” Buck crossed to an empty table, not too far away from the kids and sat down his order. He carried the two muffins and extended them to the children.  
“Thought you might be hungry.” He said, softly. The young girl took the muffin and nibbled on it while the boy just stared at him.   
“You’re the winter soldier.” He said, almost yelling. “You are Bucky Barnes!” Bucky just chuckled.   
“Yeah, I am. Now, where are your parents?” The girl pointed towards the street.   
“Mom said she would be back. She left before the store opened. Robert let us stay here until she comes back.” Bucky could feel his heart ache for these two kids. Robert looked at him from the counter and nodded his head, giving a solemn face. He knew she wasn’t coming back for them. Just like Billy’s dad back in the 30’s.   
“Well, why don’t you come hang out with me? We can call your mom from my house when we get back and she can pick you up there.” They both nodded and he grabbed his things.   
As they walked in, they could hear Steve singing from the kitchen.   
“Hey Buck.” He called. The boy’s eyes light up.   
“Is that?” He tugged on Bucky’s arm. “Is it really?” Bucky smiled and nodded. The boy ran to the kitchen and latched on to Steve’s leg.  
“Umm Buck, who is this?” Bucky and the girl entered, both laughing at how awkward Steve seemed with the young boy.   
“They needed somewhere to chill until their mom comes back.” He said, giving Steve a distinct ‘Something Is Wrong” look. Steve just nodded and pulled out his cell phone.   
“Hey guys, lets play a game while Steve does some boring stuff.” Bucky said, racing into the living room. They followed, carefree and smiling. Steve could overhear Bucky ask the kids names. Michaela and Stephen. He made sure to include that in the Shield report he filed to find them a good home.   
They ran through the house, one after another. They climbed on the furniture, the counters, shrieking and yelling. Steve sat on his bed, drawing with the door opened. He laughed each time Bucky came running passed, just like a kid. It made him happy to see Bucky find such joy in something so small and pure. They had played hundreds of games and by the time Steve left his room, all three were fast asleep on the living room rug.   
“Buck.” He gently shook Bucky awake. “Natasha is here to take them to their foster home.” Bucky looked at the two children sleeping on his shoulders and sighed. He didn’t want it to end. He wanted to hold on to them forever, to play games all day and to laugh and giggle. He wanted to pretend the floor was lava or that the neighbor’s dog was an alien from outer space. “I know you don’t want them to go, but they have to. We aren’t ready for one kid, we can’t take two.” Steve didn’t want to see Bucky loose the joy he had just regained but it had to be done.  
Bucky stood up, picking the children up as he did, and walked towards the door. Steve followed behind with shoes that had been discarded long before and a dinosaur jacket. They walked down the stairs to the parking lot and Buck fastened them into the back seat, still asleep. Steve sat their things in the front seat and nodded towards Nat.   
“Make sure they know they are always welcome.” Bucky said. His eyes teary and his posture slouched. Steve placed a hand on his shoulder and, after Natasha’s agreement, led him back to their apartment for bed.  
“Maybe you could work down at the daycare.” Steve mumbled as they laid in silence. Bucky grunted and rolled over. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea.


	3. All In Your Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky freaks out and rearranges the furniture
> 
>  
> 
> (so this one didnt really turn out funny because I hadnt been in the comedic mood when I wrote it. I kinda went in a different direction than anticipated but still wanted to share it with you guys.)

Steve was startled when the front door slammed shut, tossing the entire plate of pancakes into the air.  
"What's wrong now?" He mumbled, kneeling down to pick up the pile of pancakes on the floor. Bucky just stormed towards their room, throwing a file on the counter as he passed. Steve just sighed as he discarded the plate and grabbed the manila folder. "You have words ya know." He called down the hall at Bucky who, in response, slammed yet another door. "I swear if you slam one more door I'll strangle you." He muttered under his breath. The file was a decent thickness with different tabs sticking out. This was going to take a while, he thought as he made a cup of tea to sip on as he reads.  
The file had been translated from Russian, the English written in pen between the lines. He could tell that it was Bucky's handwriting with minor corrections by Natasha. As he flipped through the pages, reading every word that had been written, he got to a section entitled 'Asset’s Journal.' The description described the section as a scientific study to assess the mind set of the winter soldier. He continued reading.

Entry One:  
I remember him. They don’t want me too but I do. His face when I fell, all the time spent in Brooklyn, Steve. They keep trying to take him from me...trying to take everything. I feel them trying their best. They strap me in that horrible chair and I feel their cold, no hot...it doesn’t matter. I feel them ripping things out of my mind.  
I want to go home. I want to see my ma and sisters, I want to see Steve. If I'm not around then who will keep him out of trouble? I hope he thinks I died. He couldn’t bare to know about this, what they have done.

Steve could feel his heart break in his chest. He read the next and the next until he got to the final entry.

Entry 587:  
He was there, right in front of me. Decades later and he still haunts me. I was supposed to kill him but I couldn't. I felt myself slip. All the programming and training breaking. They won't be happy that all their hard work ended up so fragile. A single man, a man who doesn't even belong here.  
I can't kill him, I could never kill him. I remember all the times that I used to get into fights to keep him alive. I want to find him again. I want to be with him, to talk to him, to have that friendship that flashes in my mind in bits and pieces. But I can’t. He would hate me, or be afraid of me, or even kill me. I would die for him if he wanted me to. I just, I have this feeling that I need to watch out for him. He just can’t know I am doing it.

Tears filled Steve's eyes as he sat the file on the coffee table. He stood up and walked to the door, knocking softly.  
"Bucky." He cracked the door open. Bucky was sitting on the bed, knees pulled close to his chest and face buried deep in them. Steve sat down next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Buck." Bucky didn’t move except for his uneven breaths. "I read what you wrote.” Bucky was silent. “Do you think we should talk about it?” He shook his head no. “Then what would you like me to do with it?” Bucky just shrugged. No matter what Steve said he wasn’t going to get an answer out of him. “I’m going to call Sam and discuss some things with him. Is that okay?” Just another head nod was all he got as he walked out the door. Steve stepped out into the hall way and called Falcon.  
“What’s up man?” Sam answered the phone, children’s laughter filling the background.   
“I read some things in Bucky’s files and I don’t think he is okay, mentally.”  
“I thought you kinda already figured that out. I mean his brain was played with for years.” Sam chuckled a bit even though this was no laughing matter. A bang came from inside the apartment and Steve cracked the door.   
“Ya okay in there Buck?” A small reply came from inside telling him everything was fine. “Sorry Sam, I though Bucky had dropped something or fallen. Anyway, he is blaming himself for not fighting hard enough when they messed with him. I don’t know how to help him.” Sam sighed.   
“Just make sure he knows that it’s not his fault. That’s all I can say. You know him better than anyone in the entire world. You are the only one who knows him at all.” They said their goodbyes and hung up the phone. As Steve walked back into the apartment he realized something wasn’t quite right. The couch was moved across the living room, the chairs all rearranged and the TV hung on the opposite wall. “Hey uh, Buck?”   
“Yeah?”   
“Did you, umm, did you rearrange the furniture?” He followed the sound coming from the office where Bucky was moving the desk to have a nice view out the window.   
“Yeah, I thought we should change it up a bit.” He began reorganizing the books by height and color. Steve took the book out of his hands and placed it back on the shelf.   
“Bucky, stop.” He grabbed his shoulders. “You aren’t okay.”  
“You don’t think I know that.”  
“I know you know that. I don’t think you want to accept it. You need to accept who you have become. You need to move on. You need to start this new life here, with me if you want, or find somewhere you can be happy with someone who can help you.” Bucky tensed up.   
“You think I know who I am. I don’t. I don’t know why you care about me or how I even got here.” He stormed out…again.   
“Bucky, please. You can’t just run away from your problems.” Bucky stormed out of their bedroom, backpack swung over his shoulder.  
“Watch me.” He crossed to the door before Steve grabbed his arms. He pulled him around and embraced him with such strength all Bucky could do is wrap his arms around Steve’s large frame.   
“You aren’t going anywhere. Not without me. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you see that you need to stay with me. We can go wherever, do whatever, I don’t care. Bucky, I love you. You are all I have left. I don’t care if you are the same Bucky that I knew in Brooklyn or some PTSD, psycho person. I just want you to stay with me.”  
“I don’t deserve such comfort.” Steve looked him in the eyes.   
“You deserve it more than anyone in the world.” He peeled the backpack from Bucky’s shoulders and sat it by the door. They walked to the couch where Bucky leaned against Steve and cried. They stayed like this for hours.   
“Steve?” Bucky shifted to look up at Steve.   
“Yeah.”   
“You know what would make me happy?”  
“What.”   
“Pizza. I haven’t had one since before I shipped out for basic.”   
“Well,” Steve grabbed his phone off of the coffee table. “I guess we know what we are doing for dinner.” Bucky smiled. Maybe he could be happy with Steve.


	4. Martha and The Cheese

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this one is completely and entirely random. I don't know how well I wrote this because of the topic but I gave it my best shot. Basically, Martha is this old lady who lives her life obsessed with cheese. It started as a little girl, possibly due to some traumatic event or something like that, and just continues to grow. She ends up with a 200 pound block of cheese that she carries everywhere with her. Like, she literally rolls this thing around town and everyone knows her because of it. Well, now Steve and Bucky are involved and things get out of hand.

The news of Martha had spread faster than the avengers. Everyone from big budget news stations to small town bloggers wanted to get five minutes with her, all asking the same questions. They all wanted to know about the cheese. It had started out as your average old woman with a favorite food. Now it was your somewhat average 80 year old neighbor always asking you to help carry the 200 pound block of cheese up the apartment complex stairs. Or at least that’s how it was for Bucky.  
Bucky usually would pass Martha on his way to the gym in the mornings as she was sitting on her balcony enjoying the fresh morning air.  
“Good morning Mr. Barnes.” She would call down from the 13th floor. Her apartment was directly over his and Steve’s and more than once had the giant cheese fell through a week spot in the floor. At least once a week she would come knocking on their door, asking if one of them could help her carry the giant block up the stairs. She claims she is too fragile to get it up the 13 flights. Usually Steve would help her. When asked he explained it was his ‘civic duty’ to help the elderly. Bucky, on the other hand, would do no such thing. 

 

Bucky sat on the couch, deep in thought about the new book he was reading. A knock at the door startled him, causing him to slip off the edge and bang his head against the coffee table. He opened the door to reveal the small, wrinkly old lady standing their smiling her usual smile and smelling like rotten cheese.  
“Excuse me Mr. Barnes, is Steve here?” Bucky rubbed the back of his head where a small bump had formed.  
“No, he is out for the next month or so. He had a mission in Germany or Siberia or somewhere.” She frowned.  
“Well gosh darn it.” She looked at him with a smile. “You wouldn’t mind helping me carry my cheese up the stairs, would you?” Bucky just sighed. If Steve would do it then surely he should. Maybe it would count towards his ‘do good for others’ project with the therapist. He nodded and bounded down the stairs.  
The cheese was enormous. He swore it doubled every day. It was awkward and heavy and each time Bucky took a step, some would rub off onto his shirt. He was absolutely miserable. Finally, he made it to 13D and sat the block inside. When he made it back to his apartment he called Steve.  
“Steve you have to come back.” He said before Steve could answer.  
“Why? What’s wrong?”  
“Martha asked me to carry her cheese since you weren’t here. It was terrible. I rather be back working for Hydra than doing this.” Steve chuckled at the thought of Bucky carrying a giant block of cheese up the stairs.  
“You don’t have to agree Buck. You could always say no.”  
“But what if she asks why?”  
“Make something up. Tell her you developed a cheese allergy or sprained your ankle or something. Improvise until I get back.” With that they hung up. He had to devise a plan.  
After a week of Martha knocking on the door and Bucky making up some excuse to why he couldn’t help, the knocking stopped. Martha stopped bothering him, Steve would be home tomorrow and he could finally finish that book he had been trying to read. Three pages in and he heard sirens. People ran up the stairs, others gathered at the front of the building. ‘What in the world is going on now?’ He thought as he put his book down and walked to the door. As he opened it he saw Martha’s lifeless body strapped to the stretcher that passed by. He grabbed on of the police and pulled him aside.  
“What happened to her?” He practically growled.  
“She was crushed to death. That cheese fell as she was trying to get it up the last flight of stairs. Someone found her body this morning.” He pulled out of Bucky’s grip and followed the rest of the first responders down to the lobby. Bucky shut his door and sunk to the floor, dialing Steve’s number.  
“Hey Buck.” Steve’s voice was tired.  
“Steve, Martha died and it’s all my fault.” He blurted out.  
“What happened?”  
“I kept making excuses to not help her carry that damn cheese up the stairs and it ended up crushing her last night on the final flight of stairs. They found her this morning. Her funeral is a couple days.” Bucky choked back tears. It was his fault, or at least he felt like it was.  
“Buck, Bucky listen to me. It’s not your fault. You didn’t do it. Maybe it was just her time to go.” Steve could hear Bucky cry over the speaker. “I am going to come back tonight and we can go get you a suit for the funeral tomorrow.”  
“Okay.”  
Steve arrived late that night. He quietly slipped in the bed next to Bucky, who had clearly cried himself to sleep. He had killed so many people that Steve finally realized why this was such a devastating event for him. He chose not to help and she died while before he had no choice. The next day they went suit shopping and Steve got a few extra things to cheer Bucky up. The rest of the day they spent curled together on the couch eating ice cream and watching TV.  
The day of the funeral quickly arrived and Bucky was acting different. He was still beating himself up over the fact that he didn’t help. He walked out of the bedroom wearing his new suit and Steve’s jaw dropped.  
“You look amazing Buck.” Bucky just shrugged and they walked to the cemetery that was only a few blocks away. The entire funeral was beautiful. Steve and convinced Stark to fund it, that way Bucky could feel like they paid their respects in a “respective manner.” Steve thought he was trying to get over his guilt. When it came time for people to go up to the podium to speak about Martha, Bucky jumped up. He practically ran up there and gave a beautiful speech.  
“I didn’t know Martha as well as most of you. Actually, I hardly knew her. I knew that she loved cheese and made our life down in 12D much more interesting. 37 times had her cheese fell through the floor, giving us quiet a scare. 475 times she came knocking on our door, asking for our help. She knew she could count on the two super soldiers who lived a floor under her, just like the rest of the world. The last time she came to me for help, I denied her. Actually I denied her the last seven times. I stand before you today, before Martha, to apologize. The consequences of my actions are those that I cannot repay. Words can never make up for it.” Tears filled his eyes as he spoke. The audience felt his pain; they could see it written across his face. He finished his speech and took his seat. An elderly lady came up to him after the service and embraced him.  
“She would always talk about you at bingo. She said you reminded her of her son who passed a few years ago.” Another lady approached him with an envelope.  
“Mr. Barnes. Martha left this for you.” He opened the letter and read it.

Mr. Barnes,  
I know you have experienced such great trauma and hardship in your life. I read many books and news articles on the subject as well as kept up with your trial a couple years ago. Also, Steve would tell me about you when he would stay for tea. I would like you to know that the past is behind you and the things that you do don’t have to define you any longer. You can become anyone you wish to be. I would like to leave a small package for you once I pass on. It is a journal my mother found a long, long time ago in a small apartment she bought in Brooklyn. I believe it belongs to you.  
With care, Martha 

Bucky couldn’t believe that this lady actually cared about him. He glanced around the crowd, looking for someone who could possibly have a package. A young man had one and Bucky swiftly walked over to him.  
“Excuse me.” He tapped on the man’s shoulder.  
“Oh, Mr. Barnes, your speech was quiet lovely.” He said, smiling.  
“You don’t happen to have a package for me from Martha, do you?” The man glanced down at the small journal he held in his hands and grinned, handing it to Bucky.  
“She said it was yours. She wouldn’t let anyone read it, said it was none of our business. I tried to get her to let me take it for my project on the Commandos in middle school and she about beat me with the newspaper. She took good care of it.” Bucky just smiled and walked back to where Steve sat on the bench. He flipped through its pages.  
“I can have my memories back. All thanks to Martha.”  
“Do you feel any better knowing that she knew you and understood why you never wanted to talk to her?” Steve asked, throwing an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. He just nodded and kept reading. Steve knew he wouldn’t stop reading that journal for weeks.


End file.
